The photographer had talent, Draco had to admit that. As he leafed through the pages of the book, the black-and-white images practically leapt out at him, erotic without being vulgar. He had first seen the display in the window of Flourish and Blotts last week, with a sign announcing that the artist would do a signing. Draco had vaguely remembered the name Creevey from Hogwarts and decided to give the event a miss, but curiosity had drawn him in today to look at the book itself.

He was so engrossed in it that he scarcely registered the scent of a woodsy cologne as someone brushed past behind him, nor did he notice the note that had been slipped into his pocket until he was back at work.

It read:

I saw how interested you were in Dennis Creevey's latest work. If you're equally interested in such things in real life, meet me in room four at the Leaky Cauldron, this Saturday, nine p.m.

Let me add that I have had my eye on you for quite some time; seeing you so enraptured by those photographs gave me hope that you might share my interests.

An admirer

Draco stared at the parchment. Who on earth could have written it? Presumably another wizard, given that Creevey's photographs were exclusively of male couples; however that scarcely narrowed the field.

Over the next few days Draco wavered between deciding to go and find out who this mysterious admirer was, and deciding to stay far away from someone who might be unbalanced, even dangerous. When Saturday evening arrived, though, sheer curiosity led his feet to the door of room four at the appointed hour.

He had had a couple of drinks to shore up his courage, but his guts churned with nervousness nevertheless as he knocked.

"Come in." The voice was too muffled for Draco to identify its possessor.

Taking a deep breath, he entered.

"Weasley?" Draco couldn't believe his eyes. Now he was sure he had made the wrong choice in turning up. This was bound to be some kind of prank or trick meant to humiliate him. "Oh, fuck this." He turned to leave again.

Blocking the door was Harry Potter.

"Ron didn't write the note, I did," said Harry quietly.

Draco could hardly breathe. "Let me leave, please."

Harry's expression became regretful, but without another word he stood aside so that Draco could depart.

Outside in the hallway, Draco leaned against the wall, panting as if he had run all the way from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. It had to be a trick. He could just barely imagine that Potter and Weasley might be together, despite the utter lack of rumours on that point, but he couldn't believe that Potter had any interest in him, or that Weasley would be willing to go along with it if he did.

Then again... What in the name of Merlin's saggy tits was he doing? It wasn't as though his social life was all that fantastic. Weasley might be, well, Weasley, but the other half of the sketch was Harry Potter, and a person would have to be out of his mind to turn down a proposition from him. Draco took a deep breath. He was going to look a right fool, going back in there, but better that than to lose this chance altogether.

He knocked once more.

"Who is it?"

"Draco Malfoy." Draco swallowed hard. "May I come in?"

Weasley's face looked out. "Changed your mind?"

"Enough to at least want to hear what the explanation for this is." Draco stepped aside and let Weasley close the door. "So Harry wrote the note; what's your part in this, Ron?" Using their given names felt strange on his tongue.

"Harry wants you, and I want Harry to be happy." Ron said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh," said Draco blankly.

"I wasn't sure if you were gay. Rita's gossip column hinted you were, but I know from experience that she's not always strictly truthful," Harry explained from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair to push it back, but the dark fringe flopped immediately into his eyes again. "When I saw you so absorbed in Dennis's book, though -- he really is a marvellous photographer, isn't he? -- I thought that was a good sign, and maybe I'd have a chance. We'd have a chance."

"We as in you and me, or you and Ron?"

"We as in whatever you want," said Harry. "Just you and me if that's what you'd be up for, and if you insist Ron will leave although he and I would both rather he stay; or you and Ron as long as you let me watch; or all three of us together." Harry directed a level gaze at Draco. "I saw which pictures you looked at longest. Have you tried those things? Do you want to?"

Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from the green intensity of Harry's stare. He shouldn't have walked back into the room if he didn't want this to happen. He did want it, didn't he? Dimly he was aware that Ron was moving, but to what purpose, he didn't know. At last he said, "Yes."

"Incarcerous," said Harry, and though Draco didn't hear it Ron must have cast another spell simultaneously, for Draco found not only his arms bound, wrists drawn up toward the ceiling, but his legs as well, so that his body was stretched out into a narrow X. Strangely he was not afraid; Harry had saved him in the Room of Requirement, and he trusted Harry yet.

From behind him Ron's hands reached around and began unfastening his clothes. They couldn't be removed altogether, not with the ropes that bound him in the way, but by the time Harry had stood up and come over to Draco, they hung loosely, exposing his chest and groin. He was enough taller than Harry that he had to use the little bit of slack in the ropes to bend enough to kiss him.

Harry's tongue darted into Draco's mouth, as agile as a Grindylow and as stimulating as a Pepper-up Potion. By the time the kiss was over, Draco was straining at the ropes, trying desperately to get his cock in contact with any part of Harry's body, but Harry held himself just far away enough to frustrate Draco.

"You are all right with this, aren't you?" Harry asked, his expression suddenly a bit worried. "Ron and I play around with restraints a lot, but if they bother you..."

"No, it's fine." Draco would have thought that his very evident arousal was proof of that, but he appreciated that Harry had asked.

Harry nodded. "And it's okay if Ron participates?"

"Yes."

Immediately he felt Ron's hands on his bare arse, caressing and squeezing them, pulling them gently apart. Warm breath blew over his skin.

Harry stepped behind Draco. "Gorgeous," he agreed, and returned to where Draco could see him. He stroked Draco's chest and began to talk almost dreamily.

"Ron loves a good tight arse. There's nothing he'd rather do than eat me out, and you're going to get the benefit of all his practice. He's casting a cleaning charm on you now" -- indeed, Draco felt the tingle of it -- "and then he'll start.

"He likes to go slow to begin with. First he'll slide his tongue up and down the crack, getting you nice and wet and open, probably licking the backs of your bollocks too. He might blow over the wet skin." Draco shivered as Ron did exactly that. "Then, just when you think you can't stand the teasing any more, he'll finally start to coax your arsehole open. Just the tip of his tongue at first, licking at you, loving each wrinkle of the skin as if it were the whole world.

"He often uses his tongue like a prick. He'll curl it to make it stiff, and fuck you wide-open. At the same time he'll massage behind your bollocks until your whole arse is aflame with sheer lust," said Harry. His eyes had dilated as he spoke, and Draco could tell that describing all the things Ron was doing had turned Harry on as much as having them done had had the same effect on Draco.

Between Harry's talk and Ron's ministrations, Draco was so aroused he thought he might come without a touch on his cock. He whimpered with need, but Harry only brushed another kiss across his lips, holding well back from his cock.

"Harry," mumbled Ron against Draco's arse. "I'd say he's ready."

"Yes, I know." To Draco, Harry said, "I'm going to fuck you now. Is that what you want?"

Draco nodded violently. "Please," he begged.

Harry disappeared behind him. Draco felt Harry's hand smooth along his spine, down to his arse cheeks. Ron's tongue pulled away from his hole, to be replaced by Harry's fingers. There was no lube yet, just Ron's saliva, and Harry's knuckles rasped against the tender skin of Draco's entrance. He didn't mind, didn't care about anything except the need to be filled, to be fucked, and he whimpered again.

Even with all that Ron had already done to prepare him it was almost too much. Draco gasped and his muscles tensed involuntarily. Harry stopped, his prick fully buried in Draco's arse, and waited until Draco had taken a few breaths and relaxed a little around him. Then he moved, not too fast but steadily, his hands kneading Draco's arse cheeks with each inward plunge and withdrawal. Draco swayed slightly in his bonds with each motion.

"Brace him, Ron," said Harry. "You know the best way."

Ron came and knelt in front of Draco, putting his hands on Draco's hips and taking Draco's cock into his mouth. He didn't tongue it or even really suck it, just relaxed his throat so that Draco fucked his mouth with each pump of Harry's hips.

The wet heat was too much for Draco to resist. It was scarcely half a minute before his prick shuddered, shooting his load convulsively into Ron's throat.

"Oh yeah, you came, didn't you? I can tell, this tight little arse of yours started milking my prick. Come on, Draco, can you keep doing that for me? Use your gorgeous arsehole to make me come nice and hard, fill you with my cream?" Harry panted against Draco's shoulder.

Draco did his best to recapture the spasms that shook him in orgasm, clenching and quivering his arsehole, clamping around Harry's cock. He must have managed well enough to suit Harry, whose stream of filthy encouragement quickly degenerated into grunts and moans, his thrusts more violent now, his fingers gripping so tightly Draco was sure his skin would be bruised.

At last Harry gave a moaning cry and stiffened after a final wrenching thrust. Draco glanced down to see Ron, kneeling, a soft pleased smile on his face. Evidently he had only been telling the truth when he said that what he most wanted was for Harry to be happy. Ron's own prick still jutted out, unfulfilled, but he made no move to take care of himself.

"Oh, fuck yes," said Harry, his voice tired yet triumphant.

"All you hoped for?" asked Ron.

Harry caressed Draco's hip as he pulled out. "Everything and more. Want me to take care of you?"

"I'd rather like to try Draco's arse, if he doesn't mind," said Ron. He raised his eyebrows at Draco. "How about it?"

Draco's arse was already a little sore from the pounding Harry had given him, but he said, "All right, as long as you're quick and maybe not as rough as Harry."

"Oi! You seemed to like it," exclaimed Harry in mock complaint.

"I did," Draco assured him as Ron took his place behind, "but I would rather like to be able to sit down tomorrow."

"No fear," said Ron, beginning to move. He was gentler, and Draco thought that his prick seemed slightly smaller than Harry's as well, which helped. It wasn't long before he too had come. Draco found that he rather liked the notion that he had both their spunk mingled in his body.

Then Harry terminated the binding spell, letting Draco shake out his wrists, which had gone slightly numb. He started to pull up his trousers, but Ron stopped him, re-dressing Draco just as he had undressed him to begin with.

Draco wasn't quite sure how to end this. "Thanks," he said awkwardly at last.

Harry smiled at Draco and took Ron's hand. "Thank you. Er. All right if I owl you? Would you be interested again, sometime?"

"Yes, owl me," said Draco. He reached to shake Harry's free hand, but Harry pulled him in for a kiss instead, and then Ron kissed him too for the first time. Draco found he didn't mind that at all.

He left them together and walked down the stairs and out of the Leaky Cauldron with a sore arse but a singing heart.